


Whole

by Mother_North



Series: Of Gravity & Opposition [7]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 Season, Anxiety, Dealing with injury, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional, Feelings, Inner reflections, Love Triangles, M/M, Masturbation, POV First Person, Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: The final installment of Gravity & Opposition series which is written in Yuzuru’s POV.An opposition finally succumbs to gravity and all of the previously disjointed parts are about to fit together in a promise of a new start.It’s a New Year’s Eve and Yuzuru spends it reflecting and feeling in order to find a way to become whole again.





	Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that’s it guys. The series have come to an end and I am sincerely grateful to all of those who have read and commented, sharing their thoughts and feelings. It was an interesting and a rewarding experience for me as a writer and, of course, I wouldn’t be able to make it without all of your feedback and emotional investment. Thank you all once again!  
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies to this work of fiction in full.  
> 

**

**POV Yuzuru**

_Waves. Huge and impending. Washing away the line of horizon where the sky meets ocean so that it’s impossible to distinguish one from the other. I can feel sand beneath my feet. Vast, desolate beaches of native Sendai coastline. It smells like sea-salt and it smells like home. Fresh wind is playing with strands of my black hair which is strangely long, well past my shoulders. I feel so small and there is nowhere to hide as my eyes open wide to engulf the picture of approaching monstrous waves. They are about to crush me and take me to their ocean domain, helpless panic makes me want to scream but I can’t, mouth opening helplessly to produce impotent silence. I want to turn around and run with all of my force but I am glued to the ground, my ankles buried in the deep sand. All I can do is watch my doom unfold before my fearful eyes without any possibility to escape. The insurmountable power of the wall of water knocks me down, it pours into my mouth, obliterates my senses. I can no longer feel gravity, my body floating like a tiny sliver picked up by the tones of roaring water. The last thing my closing eyes see is the subdued blurred light, somewhere from above, shedding its comforting rays through the shifting water, as if in a wistful farewell. The light is shining dully and it is getting farther and farther away from me with each passing moment. I want to grasp it, I need to reach it. But I can’t. Going beyond the Light feels impossibly like drowning and I feel I can do nothing to come up to the salvaging surface…_

I open my eyes with a jolt, chest heaving erratically from the nightmarish dream. It’s not the first time it haunts me and I am positively sure it is not the last. It’s an iterant dream and it keeps returning again and again with a vivid realism. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down the wild beating of my heart. I feel relieved that it’s just a dream after all, but consistency with which it returns practically every night now is irritating at least. It started after _that blasted day_ in November, the day I crashed, the day my body betrayed me, throwing shadow over the fulfillment of my ultimate goal. At first I felt disbelief and rage, I was shocked by the pain and it was not its physical nature that hurt the most (I’ve learnt to cope with it through the years of my career as a competitive skater) but the numbing fear that it could be something serious that could potentially ruin everything. Still, after all of the time that has passed since that cursed incident, I have to chase away the undermining thoughts of possible defeat. I have to clench my teeth and fight, I have to keep going on no matter what it costs because it defines me, defines the way I am.

Struggle has always remained a part of my very core and without this unyielding desire to win against all odds and hindrances my inner self is going to just disintegrate. _That won’t do._ A drive to succeed in the face of any obstacles, a will to challenge myself without giving in is integral to me. I survived once and I’ll be able to prove again that I was not spared in vain, knowing full well how unthinkable it is for me to fail. Just reflecting upon it makes my throat constrict, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I despise myself for letting momentary weakness find its way into my heart of a warrior.

And then there is this quiet, persisting voice at the back of my mind, whispering to me that it’s natural and _oh,_ _so human_ to hesitate, to waver in one’s own abilities. But losing faith in myself is not for me, I just can’t afford it. Every time I wake up in the morning I go to the mirror and study my reflection intently. I need to find the cool determination in my eyes as they stare back at me from the shiny surface sternly, I need to make sure it is still in there, inside me, as present as ever and I swear _it is_.

It doesn’t mean I don’t feel frustration from time to time, when I can’t block all of the negative feelings which are boiling from within. Brian thinks that I am prone to overthinking, analyzing even the sole process of thinking itself and, perhaps, he feels that it tends to turn a bit unhealthy at times. He told me once that I needed to learn how to simply let go, without agonizing planning and visualization, while trying to foresee all of the possible outcomes. He added that such degree of control is not only harmful and downright vexing but it is in the full powers of _God_ and _God alone_. I responded by simply shrugging my shoulders and, after giving him one of my most nonchalant smiles, glided away to throw myself into a welcoming embrace of a quadruple loop, which he forbade me to do at that particular practice session. I know patience is not listed among my virtues and I often want to get the desired as fast as I can, an impulsiveness and hot-headedness making me sometimes regret my actions later but I can do nothing about it, though, truth be told, I think that I’ve matured significantly over the past few years.

There have been a lot of experiences which had inevitably altered me and shaped the way I percept certain aspects of existing reality. That unfortunate collision at the Cup of China, or my two consecutive defeats at World Championships and then my left foot injury which made me fear the worst…I struggled and I had overcome all of that, I rebuilt myself in a way, making all of the negativity turn into my strength, reinforcing my will to keep on improving and to chase perfection in an endless quest.

_I have to be perfect. Always._

Yet there was one thing that had somehow spiraled out of my control, one person which at some point had turned my stable world of a perfectionist upside down. I didn’t even notice how exactly it happened and had only to deal with the consequences in hindsight.  

_Javier._

He was not the first and he would not be the last, yet at some point, I let those feelings flood me and got carried away by the warm affectionate glow of his liquid-brown eyes, by the way his loving heart seemed to reach out to me so openly every single time. He needed reciprocity, he laid his love towards me bare and unguarded. How could have I resisted? Our passion burned brightly and we basked in its blinding, all-encompassing glory. He seemingly needed me as desperate as a dose of oxygen, his desire to possess me body and soul frightening me on and off. The problem was that I used to lose myself completely in his arms, the sheer intensity of his unrestrained feelings being enough to make me forget almost everything while an intoxicating sensation of having him totally at the very palm of my hand made me dizzy.

I remember waking up one morning, with his familiar strong frame sleeping peacefully at my side, after one of our wild nights, sweet ache still present faintly in my exhausted body. His muscular arm was wrapped around my slim waist safely as if he was afraid of me disappearing suddenly with the first rays of daylight. I felt his even breath tingle the tender skin at the nape of my neck and the heat radiating from his body was starting to make me sleepy again. His moans of pleasure and a never-ending cadence of _te amo_ were echoing in my ears as I closed my eyes, images of our sinfully entwined bodies flashing behind my eyelids. He was tender and demanding, giving and taking and so desperately enamored it made him absolutely exposed. I knew he wanted the same from me — the dependency to drown in, the bond which would make us riveted, the universal emotion to invest in, which would leave me _rooted_ in his essence forever.

I exhaled heavily and turned in his arms to look at his dormant face. The crease between his brows was eased and the corners of his lips signified that he was dreaming of something pleasant. I could distinguish each of his eyelashes — long and pointy against the skin of his cheek. I fought an urge to caress his face, my gaze drifting instead to the purple marks my lips had previously left on his collarbone — a telling reminder of our mutual violent passion. He let me do anything to him and I knew that all I had to do was to simply ask, he wouldn’t refuse me.  But the case is that I had _never truly_ _asked_ and I had never wanted to ask in the first place: his love carrying me off like an unguided torrent. He made me feel obliged, he made me feel unfree. Maybe, it was totally unwittingly on his part but it didn’t change the fact that I felt trapped from time to time, suffocating from his lavishing attention and his constant need to display his feelings. I didn’t blame him in the slightest, it was just the way he was, a tremendous power of his love searching its route through all of my defenses, sweeping away all of my inner barriers. He was becoming an indispensible part of my life pretty quickly and it scared me a great deal. I was afraid of losing a part of my identity in him and I felt that I absolutely was _not_ ready: not ready to give without holding anything back, not ready to dissolve in him without a remnant. He wanted it all and I didn’t have it in me — to love him the way he deserved to be loved, to love him the way he wanted me to love him. A sad realization was making the blood in my veins run cold, some essential part of my own feelings towards him withering in the process. It felt bitter and heartbreaking. He used to be my anchor and to keep me grounded. He used to be a raging sea-storm and the next moment— a quiet harbor for me to seek refuge in. Our relationships were never easy: a maddening mix of desire and obsession with a tint of ever present competitiveness and rivalry. And they got even more complicated when one more constant appeared in this equation, breaking into my life without any caution or anticipatory permission.

_Nathan._

He was so young and frank, mischievous daringness shining in his dark eyes. Somehow, I have always felt much older than him, though he emanated a feel of quiet confidence and while sounding as a down to earth and a serious guy in some of his interviews, he was still managing to remain a bit carefree in a typically youthful way. I succumbed to his charms on that fateful night during the Four Continents Championships in Gangneung which he had won. He snatched the long-coveted golden medal right from my grasp and I felt truly disappointed, mainly because of my own sub-par performance, of course. I saw an unmistakable lust splashing in his dilated pupils as he knocked at my hotel door. His intentions were quite clear the very moment he had stepped into my room. Placing _his_ medal around my neck with slightly trembling fingers he looked so vulnerable, the raw hunger in his eyes summing up with the adrenaline of the barely ended competition still circulating in my system only to make me lose control completely. My initial intentions were nothing short of selfish and were aimed primly at soothing my wounded pride — I wanted to hear him beg and he _did beg not once_ during that night. The sex with him far exceeded all of my expectations and…Well, it was fantastic, to tell the truth. A sense of novelty was taking it to new heights. He wasn’t especially skillful but his eagerness and desire to please compensated for his lack of experience. I got addicted swiftly to the longingly-helpless look of his eyes whenever I would let him have his way with my body. He acted as if he could never get enough of me, his caresses setting me on fire and making me burn from the inside with a kind of unnatural and savage force. I liked to play with him, testing his control and his permitted limits, extending my dominance delicately and cherishing the feeling of my own power. And then, after one of our feverish love-making sessions, he confessed his feelings to me: words slipping from his tongue half-jokingly, yet the firm determination in his stare was proving me that he was being quite serious. As soon as he felt me going rigid in his embrace, he backed down a bit, telling that he was willing to give me the necessary amount of time and that he knew about my involvement with Javier and how, perhaps, it all seemed so complicated to me.

Yes, to say it was complicated was a huge understatement. I felt torn between the two and I had let myself be trapped in the most unsuitable of times imaginable. The whirlwind of conflicting emotions was seemingly beclouding my ability to think clearly and the tremendous stress I was already feeling in the wake of being injured during the Olympic season had intensified tenfold. I needed to pull myself together and I could feel my mother’s constant concerned gazes on me all of the time. She didn’t bombard me with intruding questions and I was really grateful for it but I had a feeling that she was sensing something, maybe, even _everything_ , for she knew me better than anyone. Still, she was waiting patiently for me to open up to her willingly.

Closing my eyes in the evening I was indulging myself with the recollections of Javier’s caring hands on my naked skin — his long fingers tracing the contours of my lithe body expertly, finding all of its secret, sensitive spots, making me melt into him when we finally became one. Yet, I often opened my eyes to an image of Nathan’s face: his impossibly dark eyes silently pleading me to not reject his feelings, the vividness of the way I was feeling his taste on the tip of my tongue making me shiver involuntarily. I got totally lost too fast and the only person I could really blame it on was _me_ and me alone.

**

It was a New Year’s Eve but my mood was far from being festive in any way. The only good news was my regained ability to skate again, albeit avoiding jumping for now. I went to the Toronto Cricket Club daily to carry on with a course of important physiotherapy and to make sure I and my team did everything properly for my eventual recovery. _I prayed vehemently that it was enough_.

I missed terribly the calming feeling of smooth, slippery surface of ice beneath my sharpened blades. It was the only feeling I truly ever lived for, the way my body relaxed to the familiar sensations of speed and glide, as if flying above a cold, white expanse lying submissively underneath my feet. I have always craved it more than anything else — a sense of incomparable freedom of expressing myself with the help of movements, of absolute fusion with the choreography and music, creating magic for everyone to feel…

Every time I stepped off the skating-rink the enchantment seemed to fade away, leaving a tiny crack in its wake, which needed to be mended anew on the following day of incessant training.

Sometimes I could feel Javier’s lingering gaze creeping all over my whole body, boring into my back and shoulders, sliding greedily down my shapely thighs and slender legs. He oozed desire with every pore of his being and it was especially unrestrained when we ended up in the locker room together, other skaters miraculously oblivious to his heated glances. I had no doubt that he was fighting an urge to follow me into one of the shower stalls not once, not giving a damn about other’s presence. It was a little amusing but tiring all the same — him waiting constantly for any sign on my part to signify that I had chosen him. It couldn’t last that way forever.

I returned home feeling emotionally and physically drained to lock myself up in my bedroom, after having shared a meal with my mother while smiling to her the best I could. I studied or read or played my favorite PlayStation games, trying to make my mind become devoid of any uncomfortable thoughts. Surprisingly, I got bored pretty quickly most of the times and switched off the gaming console to lie down on the bed and stare at the white ceiling. I imagined it to be the white, icy battlefield of the upcoming Olympics, where I’ll have to defend my title of the reigning champion at all costs. I closed my eyes tightly, giving myself completely to the well-trained, all-absorbing state of intense concentration — visualizing different jumps in front of my mind eye countless times: quad lutz’s stubborn fury that needed to be tamed, quad loop’s sophisticated stance, quad salchow’s confident potency, quad toe loop’s reliability, which had been testified by me personally not once before. All of them are being in my total command, moving in endless succession at the back of my eyelids. It gave me a much needed sense of solidity, easing my insecurity and I often found myself unable to stop for hours.

Quiet guitar music was playing in my favorite custom-made pair of earphones as I felt my thoughts treading to a very familiar path again.

 Javier _or_ Nathan, Nathan _or_ Javier.

Javier _and_ Nathan, Nathan _and_ Javier.

 _Not_ Javier _nor_ Nathan, _not_ Nathan _nor_ Javier.

Absolutely mind-boggling. I sighed in distress, thinking over the call I’ve received from Nathan in the middle of the night not a long time ago. His voice sounded hoarse at the other end of the line. He started sharing his anxiety openly in the face of swiftly approaching American Nationals, wanting to alleviate the pressure he was undeniably feeling. I listened silently, understanding very well the way he was feeling, at least, he was able to compete there and defend his title of a National Champion to be legitimately chosen to represent his country at the Olympic Games. He was considered number one in his team and he had a real chance to prove that he really was. I didn’t have the opportunity this year and it left a bitter lump in my throat each time the realization weighed down at my shoulders. A wave of powerless irritation scorched me and I ended up asking him what he would do if he had to choose between fucking me the way he liked and standing at the top of the podium at the upcoming Nationals. I heard him gulp and confused silence, hanging between us, seemed to drag ridiculously long.

_Poor boy who made me feel bad for hurting him._

Actually, he replied that he would have preferred doing both. I huffed and hung up after telling him that maybe he would have a chance to do just that sometime in the future. An image of PyeongChang podium emerged in front of my inner vision with all of the clarity.

_We’ll just have to wait and see who will fuck who, Nathan._

My gut feeling was telling me it would be hell, yet, I had no doubts that I’d survive and manage it somehow or if I weren’t the one and only— Yuzuru Hanyu.

It was already getting dark and I heard my mother moving around the kitchen, downstairs, preparing a festive dinner for the two of us to celebrate New Year together. Perhaps, she thought that I had fallen asleep and didn’t want to disturb or maybe she understood that I needed some time on my own and respected my need for undisturbed privacy. I wanted to have a nap, willing my body to relax, analyzing the degree of strain I was feeling in my right ankle after several hours at the skating-rink but it was okay in a comforting and promising way. It seemed my body was finally willing to cooperate and to heal as it was supposed to, right from the very start.

Doing the sound of music which is playing in my earphones louder, I sneak my hand beneath my black t-shirt to caress my pecs and chest tentatively. I know what exactly my body needs and I am going to provide it. My breath hitches from the feathery touch of my fingertips at the sensitive, tiny buds of my nipples and I bite my lip sensually, a tide of potent arousal washing over my body. All of my senses are highly alert and my skin is responsive to even the smallest of tactile contact. The desire is getting hard to control as my fingers pinch one of my nipples roughly to make me feel the sting of excitement pull violently in the pit of my underbelly. I discard my pants and underwear to wrap my hand firmly around the base of my already hard cock. My legs are wide spread and my hips have settled a rhythm I crave instantly, thrusting up into my fist with a barely concealed urgency. I am suffocating and my mouth is agape from the pleasure which is shooting up my spine with each of my proficient strokes, making me feel achingly needy.

I am imagining Javier doing this to me while Nathan is watching us, pleasuring himself: his intense eyes never leaving my exposed body and I can feel my toes curl delightfully. I feel myself getting close in an embarrassingly short period of time and I have to bite down the back of my hand to muffle the moans which are spilling uncontrollably from my mouth so that my mother wouldn’t hear me. It’s blazing hot and my skin is glistening with a sheen of sweat, abs constricting tensely as I am stroking myself vigorously, just a step away from reaching a much desired relief. My thumb is teasing the moist slit in circular motions as I am pressing the sensitive underside the way I know would make me loose it entirely. The intensity of my orgasm is making my vision blur as I come almost painfully hard all over the porcelain skin of my flat stomach.

I feel strangely empty yet content and it looks like my body has turned into a boneless puddle on the crumpled bed sheets. My hands are trembling as I reach over to Pooh-san at the bedside table to take out a paper tissue.

As I am standing in the shower, hot torrent of water beating down the muscles of my back, I keep on repeating to myself that everything is going to be fine and that everything will turn out right, eventually. It is a special little mantra of mine to make me feel as lively and as determined as ever. Perhaps, it is useless and naïve but I chase those thoughts away. In an unfathomable way this little verbal repetitions are making me _think less_ and just be ready to give it all in order to fight for my dream when the moment comes in the future. This harmless psychological trick does help, if only momentarily, yet it is all I can ask for. I can feel stress and anxiousness slowly dissipating from my body as it is relaxing to the comforting noise of running water, the whole outside world being blocked away in a consoling manner.

**

I am looking at merrily blinking electric lights of a garland as my mother embraces me tenderly. She doesn’t speak a single word and we both know that she doesn’t have to. The bond between us is mightily tangible at that specific moment and it is in no need of powerless words which are often meant to distort the true meaning behind them. I wrap my arms around her in return, wanting to cherish the feeling of our absolute closeness. She breaks the comfortable silence, though, whispering somewhere into my hair:

“I want you to be happy, my little baby fox. It is my only true desire. You deserve it like no one else does in this world and you will be, believe me, oh, you will be... One way or another, you can never know when and how but this powerful feeling of pure joy and happiness will come to you without fail, you’ll see for yourself… I’ve made a wish today and I know that it will come true.”

I hugged her tightly, sobbing quietly into her soft shoulder, engulfed by her dearest and cozy warmth. I smiled elegiacally to myself, a decision having been formed amidst the long-coveted tranquility of my mind.

I’ll call _him_ tonight, right before going to bed, to tell that I’ve finally realized that his wait and pains had found their way towards something deep inside of me, hidden in a very special place, somewhere in the restless depth of my heart. To tell that I am willing to aspire higher with _him_ by my side if only he is to let me spread my wings freely and if he is not afraid at the prospect of crashing ruthlessly while chasing the most daring of dreams together…

_I knew his answer in advance and so I called._

**

**Author's Note:**

> An open ending seemed totally valid to me here and all of you are free to interpret the mysterious “he” identity in any way you like ;)


End file.
